


Astray

by Kyndred_Raven (Ravenna_Corvin)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Romance, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 15:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenna_Corvin/pseuds/Kyndred_Raven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Chapter 2 UP!] Even if it costs me everything, I must know the truth. For months, I've searched. For months, I've failed. As my life ebbs away, my obsession grows. It's beautiful - the color of a setting sun. It sings to me - promises to show me the reason why I was abandoned. Being led astray has never felt this frightening...and this fulfilling. Help me. Someone. (Abelas/Lavellan)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my newest Abelas/Lavellan short series!
> 
> Dedicated to my amazing friend, Nyaore (without whom I would likely not have had the courage to write any of this) and all the readers out there who love Abelas :)
> 
> If you have a moment, please let me know what you guys think :D

**9:44 Dragon**

* * *

.

.

.

.

The elf appeared like a specter.

The guards at the gates couldn't have stopped him, for no one had even seen him arrive. Whether he snuck in through the gardens, climbed over rooftops, or had scaled the vast cliff walls of the Keep would remain a mystery – much like his background; much like his true intentions. Each of his strides was powerful and silent, his long legs moving him through darkened corridors with purpose and determination. He walked into Skyhold's great hall with his back straight and his chin raised high, wearing a thick fur cloak and a hood that covered the entire top half of his face. Snow tumbled from his shoulders and boots with each step; his clothes looked travel-worn.

On his back, he carried a massive maul made of shimmering azure crystal. The richness of the decorations of the handle and rivets clashed with the worn state of his clothing, but this did nothing to detract from his menacing appearance. Pride and confidence oozed from him in tangible waves, so much so that when the castle guards finally spotted him, they moved aside as though directed by a higher authority. Was it the tilt of his strong chin? Or was it the way he strode in as though he owned the place? He moved without fear or hesitation. No one could have said that he didn't belong here. No one would have dared.

It wasn't his entrance that mystified the Inner Circle of the Inquisition, however. It was his timing. The Inquisitor's reports on the Temple of Mythal had never painted him as an enemy, but they hadn't praised him as an ally, either. According to these same reports and various eye witnesses, this elf had retreated into the shadows and disappeared from living record. Mysterious, really, how he stepped out of the vast world of anonymity at just the right time and in just right way. The Inner Circle couldn't have known it then, but they needed him, for with each passing day, the Inquisition fell farther and farther into darkness.

It was Josephine that spotted him first, but only Cullen recognized who he was. The Ambassador's gasp of surprise was followed quickly by several guards snapping to attention and drawing their weapons. Cullen and Cassandra followed suit, unsheathing their swords and taking a defensive stance in front of the Inquisitor's throne. The now  _empty_  throne. He stopped a good distance away, a nearby brazier flickering and dragging dramatic shadows over his covered face. Cullen's eyes narrowed. Though he couldn't see the elf's face, his strange armor was the same as the pictures Phaereth had drawn in her reports. With a painful stab of nostalgia, he recalled that she was a talented artist. The likeness was striking. It was as though this man had stepped out of her sketches and come to life.

No one said a word for several moments, the occupants of the hall perplexed by his arrival. Was this an intruder? Was he an enemy? Not even Cullen could predict that, and when his companions looked to him for action, he felt helpless. All he could do was give the guards a gesture to stay on their guard in case their visitor chose to display hostility. The elf gave them all some time to speak, and when they remained silent, he widened his stance and set a hand on his hip.

"I hear you've misplaced your Inquisitor," he said without preamble, his voice clear and strong. Beneath the covering, Cullen could see dark tattoos veining down high cheekbones and tanned skin. "I hear that she is dead." The Commander schooled his expression into a calculating glare.

"What business do you have in this hall?" he challenged. Several of the guards grimaced, for that was a tone that the Commander often used to cow even the toughest soldiers into submission. The elf didn't look intimidated, though. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited as though he had all the time in the world. Beside Cullen, Cassandra frowned and stepped towards their visitor.

"Who are you? What do you know of the Inquisitor?" she demanded. Cullen spared Cassandra an inquisitive glance, surprised that she didn't recognize their visitor. Then again, the events at the Temple of Mythal had taken place well over three years ago and she didn't always go over all the reports as thoroughly as he did. It was his job to note potential enemies of the Inquisition. At the former Seeker's question, the elf reached up and slid his hood from his face. He was fully shaved except for a thick braid of hair that cascaded down the center of his head. The markings on his face reminded Cullen of Phaereth's before the day that they mysteriously vanished. The elf's golden eyes narrowed.

"I am Abelas, and I am here to find what you have lost."

"We have lost nothing," Cassandra snapped.

"What do you hope to accomplish by lying to me,  _shemlen_?" the elf asked, tilting his head to the side. His tone was inquisitive, as though he was truly perplexed. "There is no longer time for half-truths and secrets." Reaching into a satchel beneath his cloak, he pulled out what looked like a small leather bound journal. As he spoke, he raised it up so they could see it. "I know where she is going," he declared. The object in his hand looked vaguely familiar, but Cullen couldn't be certain where he'd seen it before. Then the elf's words sank in. He jerked forward.

"You know where she is?" he blurted out before he could think it through. Cassandra scowled at him with disapproval. Phaereth's disappearance was a matter they'd tried to keep under wraps. It wouldn't do for too many to know that the Inquisitor was missing. Abelas stared at him, his direct gaze almost making Cullen uncomfortable. Slowly, he nodded. "Then tell us," Cullen ground out.

"No. This, I will not do."

Josephine frowned. "You are not the Inquisition's ally. Why should this interest you?"

"My reasons are my own," he replied, his eyes and expression veiled and guarded.

"Then why have you come?" Cullen demanded, annoyed by the warrior's haughty attitude. They'd been searching for Phaereth for nearly two months now. Even with a massive amount of the Inquisition's resources at their disposal, they'd had no luck. What could a single elf with little knowledge of the world outside his temple know of this situation? Perhaps Abelas was bluffing. But, to what end?

"You are looking for her, as I am," Abelas explained. "It would be wise, perhaps, to share certain knowledge and resources." He looked around the room, almost as if he was searching for someone. "In particular, I came to speak with a certain  _Elvhen_  companion that traveled with her."

"Solas?" Cassandra asked, her brow furrowing.

"Was  _that_  his name?" Abelas asked. "No matter. Where is he? I would speak with him."

"He's gone," Cullen answered. "He disappeared years ago, after the defeat of Corypheus." Whether Abelas was expecting to hear this or not was difficult to tell. His expression didn't change at all. However, the Commander did notice that a spark of understanding sprang to life in his eyes.

"I see. Then it seems that I have less time than I anticipated." With that, he turned on his heel and glided towards the exit.

"Wait," Josephine called after him. "Where are you going?" He paused - seemed to consider something. Then, he lifted his hood up and over his face again, and replied without turning around.

"Emprise du Lion. If your Inquisitor is still alive, that is where she will be."


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I wasn't expecting to see so much interest in this story, but I really am glad that there has been. I look forward to spreading Abelas love :D

**9:45 Dragon - 13 weeks after the Inquisitor's disappearance**

* * *

.

.

.

.

When I jumped off the cliff, I wasn't planning on killing myself.

However, not all things always go as planned.

As I fell, the wind whipped my hair back and cut at my face, slipping under the furs of my clothes and chilling me to the bone. I was so terrified that I couldn't even scream in panic. All I could do was flail about and attempt to cast a barrier before I hit the semi frozen waters so very far below me. Closer and closer they came, the ground rushing up to meet me as though it was a long lost lover. Only in this case, something told me that our reunion wouldn't bode well for me. Though I was disoriented and frenzied, the fall seemed to last a lifetime. Time stopped for me, and I had a moment to consider that perhaps I'd made a mistake. I had just enough time to analyze how I'd gotten here. At the moment that I chose this fate, I was convinced that I was picking the lesser of three evils. Jumping off a cliff seemed like a fine idea when you were in a bind, like I had been.

Just moments earlier, I'd been trapped on a ledge with nowhere to run. A high dragon had circled above me, its mouth gushing hot white steam that curled in the frigid air. His yellow and blue scales gleamed in the rays of dying daylight, the last of the feeble sun shining through the thinner skin on the webbing of his wings. Its throat glowed with a dim orange light; I knew that any moment, it would unleash a bout of hellfire and bring down the entire cliff. I'd fought enough dragons to recognize the signs. Had Bull been with me, this would have been a grand occasion. In that moment, however, I was not amused. In my blundering, I'd invaded the dragon's territory, and the song of the necklace around my neck was likely unwelcome in his presence.

I didn't have a prayer of tackling it on my own. Not to mention, the dragon would have to get in line to kill me. On the left and right, I was surrounded by Red Templars. Some were missing heads; others had growths of red crystals where their limbs should have been. Some held sharpened swords and axes; others wielded magic. If it were one or two, I might have considered fighting them. But as it stood, I was weaponless and at their mercy. My journey had taken my staff from me, and the bow I'd been hunting with for weeks had snapped when I lost my footing and fell during my climb to this very cliff.

After the calamity with Corypheus years ago, the Red Templars were scattered and leaderless, hardly anything more than tales told by clever minstrels in taverns. Those poor souls who had survived the lyrium poisoning hid like vermin on the run from stomping boots. The Inquisition had orders to destroy visible red lyrium deposits on sight, but pockets of the vile substance still remained beneath the earth. The creatures dug deep in their desperation. Trapped in a state of agony and suffering, they awaited the moment when death would take them at last. They would never have attacked a lone traveler; they wouldn't have had the motive. It was my stone that drew them out; I was sure of it.

They couldn't resist its song.

Just like me.

Trapped and surrounded on all sides, I knew there was only one option: the foaming and roaring waters of the river below the cliff. At least if I jumped, I would have a small chance of surviving. The funny thing was, I almost expected to hear someone shout " _vhennan!_ " as I stepped over the ledge. When my feet slid back and my heels propelled me over the cusp into the abyss, I waited for the voice that I'd heard so often in the past to call my name. Or perhaps "Inquisitor!". Or maybe even…no. That was stupid. Dread Wolf take these foolish flights of fancy. Those times were long behind me.  _He_  was gone. Aside from the glimpses I caught in the Fade, I would never see him again. All that should matter now was the Dream and the endless string of clues that led me to this frozen wasteland.

And all for nothing.

That's what stung the most.

As I hit the rushing torrents of the river, I stopped thinking. I ceased analyzing and regretting. As soon as the water closed over my head and I realized the true peril I was in, there was no longer room for anything in my mind but the steps I needed to take to survive this. I'd done my share of swimming in half-frozen lakes and rivers in the past, but this was different. My feet didn't touch the bottom, and the cold was unbearable. It stole my breath and turned my lungs to stone. I sank down as though a rock was chained to my ankles.

Above – even underwater – I could hear the dragon roar in outrage as its prey escaped. It could have chosen to follow me, but the ridge of the mountain where the river flowed was surrounded on both sides by walls of rock. The space was too narrow for its massive wings to maneuver. The Red Templars didn't hesitate, however. As I looked upwards, I saw them falling from the cliff, blind in their fervor to follow me and the stone I carried. They hit the stream with enormous splashes, sinking at first then somehow managing to break the surface and swim. Had the river been calmer, I would have ducked farther under and tried to lose them in the currents. Unfortunately, it was all I could do to keep treading water and make sure I didn't drown. My odds looked worse and worse by the second.

I was a strong swimmer, but the cold crippled me. My muscles screamed in agony; it felt like every movement tore them apart. The river twisted me about, pushing and pulling me every which way until I didn't know which direction I'd come from. Powerful currents thrust me under water, wave after wave cresting over my head. I tried to hold my breath, but every time I thought I regained my bearings, the winding waters turned me around. I fought and thrashed, my lungs burning for air. All rational thought fled the scene. I swam up, and each time I breathed out to keep water from flooding my nose, I felt more and more helpless. No matter what I did, the surface seemed to loom just out of my reach.

Invisible hands yanked me down and slammed me against one of the boulders scattered about the river's path. Following close behind was a large chunk of debris - a log that swung around and came close to taking off my head. By some miracle, I managed to dodge that fate. I ducked under it, but I wasn't quick enough to dodge again when it whipped around a second time. Then pain! – pain all down the right side of my body. Instead of my skull, it crushed my hip. My mouth opened on a silent wail as I watched my leg bend at an unnatural angle, a stream of bubbles the only evidence that attested to my anguish. Something in my thigh shifted then snapped. Stars danced in front of my eyes.

The current pinned me between the stone and the log. As seconds ticked by, my body grew numb and my vision hazy. I knew that I was drowning. A sideways glance showed me that I wasn't alone. Crimson crystals glinted in the pandemonium of the torrents. The Red Templars weren't far now, and if they got a hold of me, I would be doomed. Despite the threat they presented, however, they weren't my worst enemy here. Fear and panic would be my final undoing, so I forced myself to stay as calm as possible. My lungs contracted, every fiber of my being screaming for me to inhale. Air, water - it no longer mattered. I just needed to breathe! To resist the urge, I gritted my teeth together until I felt they might crack. Even if I couldn't have air right away, I had a few more minutes before passing out.

Think. Think! There had to be  _something_  I could do! I had no strength left and none of the concentration required for a fancy spell, but I wasn't entirely helpless. Wrapping one arm around the log that was crushing me, I turned to the boulder and struck out blindly with my magic, pooling together all the mana I could muster in this state. I didn't much care about the consequences or what this would actually accomplish. All I needed was enough force to dislodge me from my current prison. The stone around my neck sang in response to my magic. Water exploded all around me, bubbles and foam swirling around my body like a whirlpool. When I opened my eyes, my heart lurched in relief. I was still underwater, but I'd managed to push away from the rock. The log did the rest, and I clung to it for dear life as it shot upwards.

When I finally broke the surface, I gulped in mouthfulls of air. My head spun; I felt like I might be sick. For a moment, all I could do was cough and breathe; cough and breathe. Then, something surfaced near me, splashing outwards with a water-logged shriek that felt like it ruptured my ear drums. With claws like needles, it ripped at the skin around my shoulders; crystals dug deep into muscle. Too exhausted to cry out in pain, I twisted in the water and lashed out with my raft on instinct. A gurgling sound of pain; agony as the needles slid out of my body. I saw a flash of shimmering red and tattered chainmail reel back and disappear into the depths. The Red Templars were catching up to me. As I sagged, drained, over the log, I saw more of them appear. Unlike me, they didn't flail or battle against the current. Some clambered over the rocks while others followed me underwater. They didn't need air like I did; they didn't have to worry about drowning.

My right leg hung uselessly beneath me. When I tried moving it, I had to bite back a groan. Attempting to keep it still, I kicked as much as I could with my left. Using the log, I managed to maneuver closer to shore and waited until the current pushed the wood up against another rock. As soon as the raft was stable, I close my eyes and used my free hand to form the correct runes for a spell. I Fadestepped as far as I could, sputtering when the spell deposited me onto the muddy sand of the shore. I couldn't keep my footing and fell face first into the mud. Yet even with my face planted in the dark and sticky dirt, I was grateful. Body contorting and shuddering from the cold, I pulled myself up and half crawled to the nearest tree.

The pack on my back pulled me down, destroying my balance, so I shrugged it off. It flopped to the ground with a wet  _squelch_. Had I had time, I would have lamented this, for it was full of my notebooks, dry parchment, and old maps. I was certain that they were all waterlogged and destroyed by now, but I had no time to grieve for the lost hours of work. The immediate danger forced me to keep moving. I turned to the river and saw the Red Templars struggling to wade out towards the shore. Their weight and bulk slowed them down, especially when they hit the mud. Even with my broken leg, I was lighter and more agile than they were. Between that and a few more Fadesteps, I managed to enter the forest and lose my attackers in the trees. I knew that I didn't have long. The stone would allow the monsters to track me, even across large distances. And that wasn't the worst of it. If I didn't find shelter soon, my body would break down from the cold.

Soaking wet, the fur coat I wore did nothing but slow me down. I tore it off and stumbled farther into the woods, hoping to find a fallen branch to lean on. Each step was torture, for I had to use my broken leg to keep moving. As I stumbled around, I caught a glimpse of the injury. Through a waterfall of gushing red, I could see a fragment of bone sticking out through my pant leg. The sight nearly made me double over and vomit for I knew that I would have to set it by hand as soon as possible. Creators, how I wished I'd learned to cast healing magic. I'd never had an aptitude for it, but I could have learned a bit at least. Vivienne had offered, but I'd always been so preoccupied with other things…

I heard an eagle's keening cry echo through the trees. It must have been flying high above the pines. The plethora of snow all around me dampened all sound. I couldn't hear anything below the tops of the trees – not any animals, not any birds, and not the Templars that I knew were hot on my trail. By the time I finally found a sturdy walking stick, I wasn't sure what was keeping me conscious. I'd lost enough blood to leave a thick trail in the snow. That's when I heard it – the song. It crooned to me gently at first, present just on the surface on my thoughts. But as soon as I noticed it, the voice grew bolder, more insistent.

_Phaereth…_ it called to me.

I tried to shut it out and focus on the task at hand, but I should have known that the stone would know it the moment I was weak. With my thoughts in turmoil from my recent ordeal, it pressed the advantage. I felt it tugging on my mana, its voice clear and resonant as vibrating glass.

_Phaereth…_

Clenching my hands into fists, I resisted the urge to respond. More than anyone, I knew the dangers. I knew the perils of carrying the thing around my neck. I understood the risk, and I was willing to pay the price.  _Whatever_  price. To accomplish my goals, I would do anything and give anything. The stone would likely kill me; in fact, it was almost a certainty. But that did not mean that I would give in before my time. I had to remember that it was a tool – something that I would use until it gave me what I sought.

_You sold your soul…_ the stone whispered.

Yes. That was the truth. In the past, I would have balked at my recent decisions, but I had to remember that I was no longer Inquisitor Lavellan. I was no longer the leader of the most influential organization in Thedas. I was cursed – a shadow of my former self and a being that belonged nowhere.

_You must find the truth…_

Yes. I must. That is why I kept moving. That is why I left my friends behind. Doing so had given me new goals and a new perspective. Some might have said that I was being misled - that my quest was nothing but insanity. Was that really the case? I wondered, sometimes, if I hadn't lost my mind. And, just like every time I began to reconsider my decision, the stone pushed against my thoughts.

_The truth matters more than anything. Remember your vision. Remember the Dream…_

At those words, I shook my head. My vision cleared, and I realized that I'd blundered my way over a large distance. Glancing behind me, I saw a long trail of blood leading from the river. How had I gotten here? What was I thinking about just now? The song grew in volume, the words pulling and tugging on my reserves until I felt drained and hollow. Whatever strength I had ebbed away in an instant. I fell to my hands and knees, no longer feeling the cold or the pain in my leg. The sky filled my entire field of view, replacing green pines and leafless branches with an expanse of cloudy blue. I saw the eagle from earlier circling above me, so high up that I couldn't make out its coloration.

_Find the truth..._

I don't know how long I lay there, floating in and out of awareness. Minutes? Hours? Days? Snow fell from the sky and covered me in a layer of frost. Everything felt distant and blurry. I didn't understand what was happening; nor did I care. The stone's song comforted me, lulling me into a pleasant state of numbness and silence. For some time, I even thought I was dead. It wasn't until I heard heavy steps crunching through the snow nearby that I could think straight again. It wasn't until that moment that I realized that the eagle was still circling around as though signalling to someone. He gave another keening wail, and the sound seemed to awaken me. The voice from the stone faded into the background until I could hardly hear it.

The footsteps drew closer and closer; a hooded figure came into view above me. Now that the song was gone, I found it almost impossible to stay awake. My vision swam and the pain in my leg returned. When the figure removed his hood to reveal a pair of golden eyes, I said something but couldn't hear my own voice. My hand twitched as though wanting to reach up, but I was far too weak to accomplish the movement. The figure was an elven man, beautiful and ageless as a living statue. He knelt down beside me without a word, his silence almost menacing. Warmth radiated from him like a furnace, and when he wrapped an arm under my shoulders, I leaned into his touch. Perhaps I should have been cautious. I knew him, but seeing him felt like seeing another dream in the Fade. So many years had passed since our last meeting. We hadn't parted as enemies, but time changed all things. I should have been wary. Yet, when he helped me lean against his chest as he examined the wound on my leg, I felt no fear or even trepidation.

"Abelas," I whispered. There was so much I wanted to ask, but the moment that I tried, he silenced me, cutting short my stream of words with a grave shake of his head.

"Peace,  _shemlen_ ," he murmured, his palm pressing against my leg and lighting up with a blue glow. I felt the heat of his magic against my skin, watched as the light from the spell illuminated his face.

"Abelas," I repeated, somehow unable to get past that single word. It wasn't just his name. It was syllables that described my entire existence for the past months. He was the first person I'd seen in weeks – the first living voice I'd heard and the first bit of warmth I'd felt since I left Skyhold. Seeing him brought back memories both wonderful and unbearable. When I looked at him, my eyes wandered over his chiseled features – the high cheekbones, the strong jaw, and the markings on his face. Seeing them hurt much more than the snapped bone in my thigh. It hurt because they had been  _mine_  once; it hurt because the one who removed them was gone and would never return. I was barren now, my heart as desolate as the bare skin of my face.

"You have done something very foolish," Abelas concluded, the corner of his mouth tipped downward in irritation. When he reached up to loop his fingers under the cord around my neck, my strength returned in a surprising surge. I tried to swat him away. Not the stone! He shouldn't touch it. No one should. It was _my_ burden and _my_ curse. It was my salvation and the only scrap of hope I had left.

"No," I resisted. Quicker than a striking viper, he grabbed my wrist.

"I should leave you here to your fate," he growled and pushed away my hand. When I tried to fight back, the arm around me tightened. That arm was steel and corded muscle. I couldn't fight against that – not now when I felt like I would lose consciousness at any moment. "I should leave you here to reap what you have sown. Once again, you have meddled with forces that you do not understand."

"Don't," I gasped when he tried to tear apart the necklace. "Don't take the stone," I begged him feverishly. "Let me go!" Despite my protests, I watched helplessly as he ripped the necklace from me and held the stone out of my reach.

"I am here to divert you from your path."

"Give it back," I hissed at him, a surge of fury mushrooming in my chest. Wildfire spread through my veins. My vision tunneled, narrowing on the stone dangling from his fingers. As soon as the stone was away from me, the pain in my leg grew tenfold. My body felt heavy and sluggish. I launched myself at him. At that moment, if I could have killed him for the necklace, I would have. Who was I kidding? Weaponless, injured, and nearly dead from blood loss, I was no match for his superior physical strength. With a single push to my chest that looked like nothing more than a flick of his wrist, he knocked me to the ground with such force that I saw stars. I listened for the stone's song out of habit – desperate to hear the voice calling my name.

And heard nothing.

The song was gone, as was all hope for hearing the voices of the Well of Sorrows.

"Please," I pleaded, feeling tears sting my eyes. Being without the stone made me feel like a string of raw nerves - tattered and frayed. 

"And what will you do with it?" he glared.

"I need it…without it, I can't find the truth…" To my utter shame, my tears spilled over and trailed down my face. "I can't find  _him_ …"

"If only you could see yourself as you are now. You have been led astray,  _shemlen_."

"I don't care," I declared. He frowned at that. 

"The truth is already within you," he replied, unfazed by my desperation. "It is within all who belong to Mythal," he said. Perhaps a part of me wanted to hear him. Perhaps a part of me would have done anything to be saved from the self-destructive fate I'd chosen for myself. But another part – a darker part – wanted to do whatever it took to fulfill my goals, even if meant taking Abelas's life to take back the stone. Adrenaline washed over me, dulling my senses to all but what I needed to do. I rolled over onto my stomach and Fadestepped upwards and through Abelas. Or, I wanted to. The moment that my leg bore any kind of weight, I heard the bone snap again. The pain was so intense that I immediately collapsed back to the ground. As darkness took me, I heard Abelas mumble something above me:

"I will not allow you to drown the world in shadow…"


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's that time again! Astray will be regularly updated here, on AO3, and on Tumblr. Right now, the tentative update schedule should be one - two times a week. Finals are coming up, so I might be a bit delayed sometimes, but the wait shouldn't be more than a few days.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read this story, favorited, alerted, kudosed, and reviewed it. Your support means a lot and helps inspire me to work harder and update faster :) I hope you guys like this installment! It was originally going to be one chapter, but I've split it into two for better flow. I'm still editing the second segment and hoping to have it completed soon.

_._

_._

_._

_._

_Solas._

_There he stands, alone upon a cliff side._

_There he stands, so near that I can feel the tingle of his magic._

_Alone again._

_So close that I can almost touch him._

_I just have to reach out, just a little, and I could snag the edge of his robes. But, something stops me. Something glues my arms to my sides. I hesitate, like a dove about to leave the nest for her first flight. I hover on the precipice, a thousand different doubts and fears spinning through my core with the force of a hurricane. I'm lost. Confused. I don't understand my own trepidations. What am I waiting for? Why am I stopping?_

_This is Solas._

_This is the one I've been searching for all this time._

_Countless nights have passed me by while I wondered where he was. Countless mornings, I've awakened and felt the frigid sheets beside me, wishing he was there to warm them. I've walked the halls of Skyhold, listening to the reverberations of my steps and aching as I passed his murals on the walls. I sought answers there. I sought answers everywhere. Any explanation would have been better than none. How many hours have I spent in the throes of regret, wishing for things that could never come to pass?_

_Countless._

_Endless._

_So why am I hesitating?_

_**Because** _ _, instinct answers me._ _**Something...everything...is different now…** _

_That's right._

_This is the Dream._

_This is the Fade._

_This isn't real._

_I force myself to pay attention, trying to capture every detail and brand it into my memory. This Dream is the biggest reason that I left Skyhold with the stone. Something about this vision is important. Something about this is crucial to my fate. So, I let go of my emotions. Or, I try to. I let go of as much as I can. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and force myself to concentrate._

_In this vision, Solas wears clothing that I've never seen before - robes that at once speak of a life full of hardship and also accent how far away he is from the man that I once knew. Solas of the Inquisition would never have worn such rags. He loved the feel of fur and natural materials; he adored their connection to nature. He put thought into the creation of his armor. In him, practicality met beauty. He was a simple man, never given to frivolity or unnecessary flair, but he was a man with taste. In his simplicity lay an undeniable grace and nobility - characteristics which are all absent now._

_The robes that hang on his thin frame look time-worn and dirty. The hem is riddled with holes, strings hanging loose to drag in the snow. The metal of the armor that covers his shoulders is cheap and brittle, reminding me of the junk we sometimes found on our excursions into old ruins. The staff in his hand is fashioned from an aging tree branch, gnarled and grizzled like old man's fingers. It isn't augmented for combat, nor is it crafted with any particular skill._

_My eyes slide upwards._

_His shoulders are broader than I remember; his stance more rigid and tense. There's a new burden on those shoulders – a solitude that haunts him like a relentless specter. And regret, too. It's so familiar to me that I swear that I can almost smell it permeating the air around us like a poison fume. My thoughts wander. If I could go back to that day when Corypheus fell, if I could break the flow of time and re-enter it right before I turned away from Solas for the last time...oh, the things I would change. I would never turn away. I wouldn't let him touch that broken orb. I would have tried harder to save it._

_I might even go back farther in time._

_I might try to stop myself from loving him so much._

_**Impossible** _ _, my inner self insists._ _**Impossible desires...impossible wishes...all you have is what stands before you now...** _ _As I finally surpass my own concerns and reach out to him, I see his hand clench into a fist. From it, dangles a frayed cord with an animal's jawbone hanging on the end. That, at least, hasn't changed at all._

" _Solas," I whisper, terrified that he will disappear at any moment. My emotions are breaking through my resolve to focus._

" _Solas…" He doesn't answer me; he never does. I've seen this Dream a hundred times, yet still I'm not immune to the pain that it inflicts._

" _Solas," I call again, more loudly this time. He shakes his head, giving a sign that he hears me. Hears, but refuses to acknowledge._

" _Please, don't shut me out. I know what's going to happen," I tell him. "I know, and I don't care." Words spill from my mouth, their syllables full of a hurt that runs deeper than the thickest of skins. I know I'm rambling, but it doesn't matter. I just want something to change this time._

" _Wherever you are, you are alone, and the thought is killing me. I don't even care **why**  you left. It doesn't matter what your reasons were. I told you once that I would never give up, and I meant it."_

_When he turns around, it isn't a gentle blue gaze that greets me but bottomless red pools. Slitted pupils pierce through my skin and see beyond, down into the very core of my being. A black shadow surrounds him, distorting his features into a gruesome mask of angles and ridges. There is no sign – not even a hint – of the man I knew before. His warmth is gone. His gentle nature has been twisted. All I see in those eyes is purpose – a sort of determination that is as ruthless as the snapping jaws of a ravenous beast._

_He looks through me. Doesn't see_ _**me** _ _. All those eyes reflect is prey. Fresh meat. A new victim. A sacrifice, perhaps. From a distance, I hear the murmurs of the Well of Sorrows. They tell me that this isn't something to be feared. They tell me that I should be honored to be sacrificed. Magic is magic. Just as water is water. Blood magic isn't inherently evil. It all depends on intent. But, when I try to make out the name of he who would use my blood, the murmurs become a string of blurred syllables._

_And all the while, Solas doesn't say a word. Is this even Solas anymore? If I ever stand before him again - not in the Fade, but in reality - is this what I will find? A gust of wind picks up around us, blowing my hair into my face and ripping the jawbone necklace from his fingers. He lets go, and it disappears into the void. The last piece of the Solas that I knew._

" _It's alright," I assure him, raising my arms in supplication. "Come. Do what you will with me. I will accept all of who you are. I won't let you die alone."_

_In the next instant, he lunges forward. The shadow wraps around my arms and legs, holding me still and binding me. All traces of Solas's outer shell fade away. He transforms into a massive black creature with six crimson eyes and saliva coated fangs. I told myself that I wouldn't be afraid, but I am. My body shakes. Cold sweat coats my skin in a heavy film and icy talons of terror claw at my lungs. For a split second, I almost say something, but the words quaver and cower behind my teeth just as my tongue prepares to shape them._

_**The truth is within all those who belong to Mythal…** _ _a voice echoes all around me. This is unexpected. I've never heard these words before. In the Dream, I am always alone, facing the darkness without any hope of victory. The truth? What does that mean? I don't have time to wonder, for as soon as the echo of those words fades into oblivion, I feel the beast's fangs break through my ribs and crush my heart._

* * *

.

.

.

.

When I next open my eyes, the creature is nowhere in sight.

The sky looms above me – dark, grey, and imposing. For a time, I try to remember how I got here. My memory is a tangle of vines and nettles. The first thing I recall is my fall from the ledge. Then, everything comes back in a tidal wave: the cliff, the dragon, the Red Templars, the river. That's how I lost the stone. I broke my leg. I ran through the forest. Then, Abelas found me and took my salvation from me while I was helpless. Moments after this realization, I mourn the loss of the stone and its siren's song. I yearn for it as I've seen so many Templars yearn for Lyrium.

Not now.

That's right.

I mustn't linger here.

I roll onto my side and push up with my arms, forcing my half-frozen body into a sitting position. I can't fathom how Abelas found me or why he was so desperate to take the stone away. I was so careful to stay hidden since the moment that I left Skyhold. My biggest concern was always running into other members of the Inquisition. Our force had grown so large and our influence so great that even the most remote of villages in the middle of nowhere knew who I was. For that reason, I avoided all civilization for weeks and always took time to hide my tracks. I even went whole nights without a fire at times to avoid the risk of being seen. I hunted my own food. I crafted my own crude supplies. I didn't even speak to passerby and kept a hood on at all times.

So how did Abelas find me? Had he teamed up with the Inquisition? Was he using their resources to hunt me down? That seemed unlikely, knowing his personality and his wary nature. Even if the Inquisition had come to  _him_ first - which was unlikely too - he would have turned down their request for assistance. I cringe. Just imagining Abelas willingly allying himself with a group of  _shems_  feels wrong.

No. Teaming up is a ridiculous notion.

Abelas is working alone, which means one of two things: either he knows  _exactly_  what that stone is and what it can do, or he only has an inkling and is assuming the worst. Truthfully, I can't blame him for either. Even from my biased vantage point, I can see that the line of actions and decisions that had brought me here wasn't the most sound or the most rational. If anything, Abelas is right and I'd been led astray, though not for the reasons he believes.

I gingerly move my head to examine my surroundings. The valley around me is covered in a blanket of snow, as are my clothes. In this cold, they've dried into a crusty mass that crinkles and snaps as I move about. The wound on my leg is mostly healed. Someone - likely Abelas himself - has sown the torn sinew together, set my bone, and wrapped a shred of material around my thigh to staunch the bleeding. Why, though?

If Abelas was after the stone, he didn't need to keep me alive after retrieving it. And if he knows anything at all about the truth behind my journey, then healing me was an act of cruelty, not compassion. Without the stone, I'm doomed. For now, I can still think clearly, but soon - very soon - my mind will break beneath a tide of voices. It will be as it was all those weeks ago, when I locked myself in my study and hoped that nobody would see me in my pathetic state. Things had been going so well that I'd nearly forgotten how horrible those nights were. Or how easy it would be to go back to them.

_The stone is my only hope..._

After rubbing at my temples to soothe the ache there, my eyes narrow on a spot of warmth beside me. The remains of a small fire. Something is odd about it. I note the strange shape of the ashes. Square and thin; brown in the places that haven't burned up. A moment as my mind catches up with reality. Small. Brown. Thin. Like parchment. Not wood, but paper. When I realize what I'm looking at, my heart clenches and shudders. I look around for the pack I rescued from my scramble in the river, hoping I'm wrong, but…

The pack is gone, along with all of my notes and research.

No. Not gone.

Incinerated.

_Abelas…may the Dread Wolf take you for this treachery…may he rip you apart until the end of time!_

Reality slaps me in the face without warning or mercy. I rush to my knees, scrambling over to the fire. My mind still shrieking in denial, I throw snow over the glowing embers and paw through the ashes, finding only scraps of things that I'd spent weeks writing. Nothing but a few fragments of paper have survived. A corner of a page catches my eye, and when I turn it over, I see an eye staring at me between smudges of dirt and charcoal. The flames have devoured half of the subject's face, but the blue inks I used to paint the color of his eyes somehow endured. My fingers tremble as they brush debris away from the page, revealing a small part of a sketch I'd drawn years ago.

Solas stares back at me from the drawing, his face serene and his expression unguarded. In his hand, he holds a book. Though the rest has been taken by flame, the image is a memory that I will never be able to forget. This was the last time I saw that expression on his face, the last time he smiled at me and whispered…

… _my heart…_

Recalling the endearment brings the sweetest pain. It's a noose that wraps around my neck and steals my breath. It's a venom that sets my blood aflame. Each time I recall it, I lose a little more of myself. But, I can't help it. I never could. Though I always felt that our feelings for each other would never survive the war for one reason or another, I still couldn't help loving him. One lone tear squeezes over a crease at the corner of my eye, gliding down my cheek and stopping there. The wind hisses over it, freezing it in place.

_I want you to know that what we had was real…_

Creators. I haven't heard his voice in so long. With the stone around my neck, I could hardly hear anything but the constant vibrations of magic and its temptations. I was driven and focused; I could set aside my emotions and concentrate. Now, though…now the cracks of my heart grind together, snagging on the edges, throbbing and festering. I realize the full depths of the abyss around me; I recognize how alone I am. If I call out, my voice will echo for eternity. If I curl up and never move again, nobody will find me. It's a precursor to the insanity soon to come.

Another gust of wind tugs at the ruined parchment in my hand as if to say  _let go_ , but I hold fast, clinging to the memory and a last shred of hope. I know. I know full well that I'll probably never find him. Even if I do, he will not look at me this way again. He will run, or he will do as the Dream has shown me and become my enemy.

But, I can't accept it.

I can't.

_So what now?_

I've lost the stone, and with it, all possibility of success.

_Not true._

I must find it again. That is the only acceptable solution. I must find Abelas and take back what rightfully belongs to me.

_Get up –_ I command my body.  _Get up._

Through pain and discomfort, my limbs obey. I use my anger as a crutch, more tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. Though my leg is no longer broken, I can barely move it without wanting to scream. The bone is brittle and will need time to heal. A luxury that I don't have. I must find Abelas. I must take back the stone.

If I don't…

...no, I don't even want to consider it.


End file.
